Blackout
by Kasdeya
Summary: Christophe's been having problems with his memory but no one believes him when he says he's a dangerous kid.


**Author's Note: **This is just a one-shot for Christophe. I've always thought of him as insane and having two different personalities. I plan to write him a lot more, this is just a small introduction to just how I canon him. I'm also sorry, I don't usually write in first person because I know how much I suck at it, but it was the only way I could do this.

**Warnings: **Swearing, violence.

* * *

A sudden sharp breath forced its way out of my lips like I had just come back from the dead. I was standing in the centre of a large glass building with huge sliding doors. Cars, coaches, and buses were continuously pulling up outside, dropping off people who hurried inside with their luggage. There were thousands of them coming and going, pushing past me without even offering an apology. I was much shorter than they were and no one noticed me.

As I ran around trying to find someone to help me, I left a bloody path in my wake; footprints and drips of crimson paint followed me, falling from my hair mostly as that on my clothes had already dried and stained. My movement had caused a few to notice me and I heard rumours uttered in the air.

"Was that kid in an accident?" I heard one say.

"Where are his parents?" Another said.

If I knew the answers to those questions then perhaps I wouldn't be here. Unlike everyone else who came here purposely for travelling, I had no idea how I wound up here in the state that I was. The only clue I had was a piece of paper I located in my back pocket.

It was hard to make sense of as it was written in chicken scratch writing. I was never good at reading anyway but the fact that it was in French allowed me to understand just a few key points. The note had a name and address on it which was in Minneapolis. I also managed to work out that the name on this piece of paper was someone I was supposed to go and kill.

Immediately I screwed up the piece of paper and threw it in the nearest bin without thinking. Then I ran off again in search of someone.

"Monsieur, can you 'elp me?" I tugged on a man's sleeve but he whacked me aside, making me stumble and fall on my ass. I was quick to my feet again before I was trampled on.

"Madam, could you please…?" I pulled on another person's sleeve and, thankfully, she turned to look at me, her bright blue eyes widening in shock.

"Oh dear, what happened to you?" She questioned but I hadn't an answer to give her.

"Please, I need 'elp." She nodded and I was grateful that she understood me and didn't ask any more questions.

The blonde haired lady took me to a payphone, gave me a few quarters, and waved over the police. I didn't know who to call, I didn't have any numbers committed to memory so using a phone was useless. I simply gave her the money back with a weak smile.

"What's wrong?" The chubby officer grumbled.

"This boy needs help."

I looked up at him and he stared back down at me. It was surprising that he didn't seem the least bit startled by my appearance, but then people like him saw blood every day.

"Monsieur Officer, I know who I am, but I don't remember 'ow I got 'ere. I do know zat I'm an unsafe man weeth a plan of flying away to kill a man."

I had a history of blackouts, so this was not new to me, but I feared what my other half had done this time. I didn't care if no one believed me, I was a dangerous person and I hoped they understood that.

"You?" he burst out laughing, having to hold his podgy stomach. The woman met my confused gaze before I looked away to glare at him. "You're just a kid."

"Écouter!" He stopped thankfully and I carried on. "I don't know what ze fuck ees going on, but you 'ave to believe me. I don't fuckeeng remember 'alf ze sheet I do! I probably killed a few people before I came 'ere, zat's why I'm covered in blood!" I screamed at him, startling the people around me who stopped and stared. At this point I was seething, my mind going hazy so I took in three deep breaths to calm myself.

"Alright, alright, we'll take you for a body check." he motioned me to follow and I thanked the woman for her assistance.

* * *

"What's your name, son?"

The man sat on a chair across the table from me. The room was white, untainted, and uncomfortable. However I liked this man better seeing as he wasn't quite as large as the other and had a calming smile about his pale face. He looked a lot neater too in the sense that his black hair was scraped back and styled with gel.

"Christophe Simon Blanc." I answered.

"Well, Christophe, want to tell me why you're here?"

I sighed. "Because I don't know 'ow I got to zis airport but I found a piece of paper een my pocket weeth a name and address on."

"Oh?" He raised a brow at me, leaning forward to place his chin on the palm of his hand. At first I thought he believed me, but then I noticed the smile was simply to mock me so I glared. "And where is this piece of paper?"

"I zrew eet away."

"Christophe," It was his turn to sigh now and he leaned back, drumming his fingers on the plain white wood. "where are you parents?"

"I don't know."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Do you live with your parents?"

"Oui."

"So you must know where they are or at least a number I can contact them on for you." I sighed and shook my head. "Alright… We'll have a little look into it for you. What's your mother's name?"

"Héléne Blanc."

"Do you live with her?" I nodded. "Where do you live?"

"South Park, Colorado."

The officer gave a nod and stood up, tucking the chair under the desk. "I'll be back in a few minutes, just stay here, okay?" I sighed, dropping my head to the table and nodding. He left without another word and I was once again pushed aside by someone who didn't believe me.

It irritated me so much to know that no one here believed I was sick. I had to be if I couldn't recall most of my memories. I should at least be able to remember how I got here! How the fuck could I forget just how I ended up in a fucking airport covered in fucking blood?!

I slammed my fist down onto the table and looked up, glaring towards the door.

Why was everyone so fucking blind?

* * *

Next thing I knew I was walking on an airfield with sirens blaring behind me and a gun in my hand. There was a terrible sharp pain in my shoulder and my free palm was pressed against it to stop the bleeding. I heard voices yell at me but the sound of a plane taking off nearby was deafening me to anything else.

More and more blood was pouring out of the wound in my arm and I threw the gun down on the floor. I didn't know why I had it, nor how many bullets were left or what I used them on, all I knew is that I was dying. I was shot, bleeding, and dying, just left to stumble down the dark highway waiting to be run over or picked off by the cops speeding towards me.

I couldn't go on any longer and just collapsed to my knees, then completely, my head hitting the asphalt and everything going dark.

* * *

When I awoke this time, I was laying on a bed of some sort in the back of a moving vehicle with the same cop who interviewed me sitting next to me on my right side and a doctor on my left. There was a TV on the same side as the cop and I looked up at it. On it was the news, showing… me… shooting several officers, killing one innocent civilian and rushing out onto the airfield only to be shot and stumble forward. That must have been when I woke up. I looked down at the cop and frowned, I could feel tears prick the corner of my eyes. I was scared of what would happen and would I die?

"Ee'm sorry…" I couldn't get anything else out and he just shook his head, placing a hand on top of mine and forcing just a hint of that same smile I saw before.

"You did the right thing to come to me first, I should have listened. Don't worry, we'll get you the care you need." He assured me. "Now sleep."

He didn't have to tell me twice, I just closed my eyes and drifted off.


End file.
